


loose change

by shizuoh



Series: still just you, frisk [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader is Chara (Undertale), References to Undertale Genocide Route, Sharing a Body, allusions to past trauma/suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuoh/pseuds/shizuoh
Summary: Frisk is quiet, for a long time. You can feel them contemplating. They make one weary look over where the mountains are, but ultimately decide against it and turn down the street to Toriel’s house.Do you think he’s afraid of us?they ask eventually, breaking the silence. Then, after a beat,Of me.Annoyed, you bite back,I thought it didn’t bother you when people were afraid of you.He’s the only monster who knows of a reason to be afraid of me.sometimes, when frisk and chara get a little too caught up in their own head, they get a little careless.
Relationships: Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Frisk & Sans (Undertale)
Series: still just you, frisk [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118276
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	loose change

**Author's Note:**

> been a whole month but here i am! 
> 
> this installment is a bit more explicit when it comes to suicide and the genocide route. those references aren't entirely represented in the first chapter, but will come in the eventual second. just want to make sure all trigger warnings are in effect.

Something you will never understand is how little friends Frisk seems to have at school.

You’ve been stuck with them for so many runs that it feels like it’s been your entire life. You’ve watched them get close to every monster they saw — there was no creature who could be saved from their generosity and their stupid need to sacrifice themself for others. There likely isn’t a single monster above ground nowadays that doesn’t know Frisk’s name, Frisk’s face. 

But they’re too old to attend Toriel’s monster school. Human middle schools are an entirely different realm — filled with changing bodies and hormones that make kids turn against one another. You have always known that humans are destructive, are evil, but of all people… you thought maybe Frisk would be the one to smack some sense into them.

Yet, they don’t seem to have a single friend. Teachers appreciate how smart they are, even if they are disappointed that they don’t ever participate in class. Janitors and lunch ladies and other staff appreciate the way they wave hello and say _ thank you _ after every encounter. The students don’t appreciate them at all — it’s almost like they don’t even exist to them. It’s hard for you to admit, but Frisk is sort of scary-looking. Their neutral face gives others the impression that they just simply don’t care. They have a glare that can raze a city and a newfound fire in their eyes that may have sparked from your influence. The way they always sit alone and keep to themself pushes others away. 

They don’t even try to pick on Frisk — at least, not where they can hear. You’re sure that their fellow peers whisper rumors about them behind their back, judging from the wary looks Frisk will get from the back of their head every so often.

_ Doesn’t it bother you? _ you ask one day, frowning internally when Frisk picks at their half-eaten sandwich.

_ Not sure, _ Frisk replies earnestly.  _ I’m glad they don’t bother me. _

_ But nobody talks to you here. _

_ You do,  _ they say.

You scoff, _ I hardly think I count. _

_ You count to me, _ Frisk assures, and rips part of the bread off to shove it in their mouth. They push it around their mouth with their tongue for a bit, until you get sick of the soggy feeling and forcefully swallow it.  _ I don’t need anyone else _ , they say once you’ve given them back control.

_ Human interaction is important to prepubescent development,  _ you say.

_ Pubescent,  _ they correct.  _ We’ve already hit puberty.  _ Then, after another bite, they go on,  _ And I know  _ **_you_ ** _ aren’t telling me about talking to humans. _

_ Well,  _ you say, _ you’re supposed to be good cop. Monster ambassador, symbol of hope… _

_ To monsters, _ Frisk says sharply.  _ Humans are afraid of me. _

_ Yeah, your big, ol’ lanky body sure spells danger to me,  _ you tease, but Frisk isn’t laughing.  _ Does it really bother you that much? _

_ No _ , Frisk replies.  _ No. It doesn’t bother me. That’s what bothers me. _

_ You’re bothered because you’re  _ **_not_ ** _ bothered by people being afraid of you? _

_ Yes. _

_ Way to make it complicated. _

Frisk snaps the lid of their lunch box shut.  _ Shut up.  _ They fold their hands in their lap, fidgeting. After a beat, they shift uncomfortably and go to cross their arms over their chest. You can feel them searching your shared mind for the right words to say.  _ You already know about why I jumped,  _ they then say, making you jolt at their bluntness.  _ If they’re afraid of me, they won’t hurt me anymore. _

You’re quiet. Neither of you really like talking about your lives before falling into the underground, let alone the reasons leading up to it.

_ They used to be afraid of me too, _ you say, your voice wavering. 

_ I know,  _ Frisk says.  _ It isn’t the same. _

It’s not, but you don’t say this out loud. The type of fear you were met with was the type where the humans around you wanted to snuff out its source. 

_ Nobody can hurt us anymore, _ you then say, voice tinging dangerously.  _ You know that I won’t let them. _

**_We_ ** _ won’t let them,  _ Frisk corrects, their tone darkening all the same. Their eyes scan the room in front of them; the sound of the bustling cafeteria is deafening compared to the comfort of your shared headspace.

Trying to ease them, you say,  _ I doubt these middle-schoolers can do any real damage. _

_ We’re middle-schoolers,  _ they retort.  _ You know what we’ve done. _

_ They aren’t us. _

_ Right,  _ Frisk says, somewhat sarcastically,  _ we’re special. _

_ Damn right, _ you reply, and take control of their hands to fidget with the empty milk carton in front of you. The cardboard tears easily at your fingers.

For both of you, it’s hard to imagine any place where there aren’t people fighting against you. Where there aren’t people trying to tear you down, destroy you, or even kill you. You had the surface destroying you, and then the underground doing the exact same. The home Toriel had offered you — has now offered  _ Frisk  _ — has always been and always will be too good to be true. Even after all this time, there’s still the underlying fear that one wrong move, one dropped plate, one step out of line would lead to disaster. 

You want to say that Toriel would never hurt you, would never hurt Frisk, but the both of you can still feel the phantom pains of magic fire on your arms and legs. You can feel the way she hugged you and then shut you out — the way she has done that to countless children before; giving up at the start, convincing herself there was nothing she could do, and letting them be killed all the same.

Almost all of Frisk’s friends have tried to kill them at least once. Almost all of them have succeeded, even if they’ll never know it.

_ You’ve tried to kill me, _ Frisk says accusingly, but they don’t sound angry.

_ Yeah, like, once,  _ you scoff,  _ and it was on accident, anyway. _

_ How do you try to kill someone on accident? _

_ Do you want me to show you? _ you deadpan.

At this, Frisk actually snorts out loud. The sound gathers a few cautious glances from the tables around them. The students go silent for a few moments, then return to their conversations, albeit a bit more hushed.

_ There goes our eavesdropping opportunity, _ you say.

_ I’ve heard enough gossip for today anyway, _ Frisk replies.  _ Apparently Sara from seventh grade told her best friend Catherine that she has a crush on Logan from the grade below us but Sara’s already sort-of dating Dominic after they went to the football game together. Catherine has a crush on Logan too, but Logan doesn’t like either of them. _

Well, now you’re invested.  _ Who does Logan like? _

_ Not sure,  _ Frisk says.  _ I’ll have to investigate more. _

_ We’ll have to save that for tomorrow,  _ you say once you hear the telltale sound of the bell ringing. Everyone in the cafeteria starts to get up, followed by a few groans of protest. 

Frisk goes to stand and cleans up their table, pushing in their chair and making sure no crumb is left behind. Grabbing their backpack, they sling it over their shoulder and start to walk out into the hall.

_ We have art next, _ they say.

You swiftly take control with an internal grin. _ Leave it to me. _

* * *

(You never went to school. Your family was too poor to afford it and even if they could, they would never waste that sort of money on you. Frisk bemoans some of the classes they have to take, but anything they don't want to do, you're eager to take up. There are plenty of things they teach that you already know, but the satisfaction of seeing a high grade on a test — especially one that's higher compared to the rest of the class — is a sentiment that the both of you share.

Art is your favorite. You despise being told what to draw but you enjoy the teacher's impressed looks at every piece you offer up. You're not sure if she's noticed the difference between Frisk's rough sketches and your final works, but it doesn't matter.

But it's not you who gets due credit. It's Frisk, always Frisk. It doesn't bother you as much now as it used to, but every so often there's that tinge of disappointment that hits. When the teacher smiles at you, looks into Frisk's eyes and sees nothing beyond, and says _Well done,_ you know they aren't talking to you. There is nobody to compliment you, to recognize your achievements, to see how far you come.

The last person to smile at you like that has been dead for a long time, and there hasn't been anyone else since.)

* * *

Toriel’s too busy after school to pick Frisk up on days they aren’t going to therapy, so the two of you usually walk home. You could have someone come and pick you up, but Frisk makes no move to grab at their phone when the bell rings.

They’re silent as they start walking. They pick up the pace to steer past their straggling peers, and you feel their internal, guilty glee as their peers immediately move out of the way to avoid interacting with them. You stay quiet too, unsure of what seems to be on their mind. They’re blocking it from you for a reason.

After a beat, you pry,  _ What’s up? _

_ I know a friend we could go see, _ Frisk says slowly.

You quite literally grab at both of their legs and pull them to a stop.  _ Are you a fucking idiot? _

_ Maybe. _

_ He’s not even human. _

_ Does it matter? _

_ Yes, _ you say, flaring with anger. You pointedly take control and begin walking again, avoiding eye contact with the direction of Mt. Ebott.  _ Mom would kill us if she found out we went back down there.  _ You immediately regret saying “us” as soon as you think it.

_ Liar, _ Frisk says.  _ You know she wouldn’t even do anything. _

You pause for a moment, wondering if you should say what you’re thinking. Frisk already knows, as they always do; there’s no hiding emotions here.

_ He won’t do anything either, _ Frisk continues, though this time they sound a little less sure.

_ Maybe,  _ you say,  _ but he’ll know. _

_ He doesn’t know anything. _ Now Frisk sounds like they’re trying to convince themself.

_ He doesn’t know  _ **_everything_ ** _ ,  _ you counter. _ If he figures out we’re going down to see that stupid fucking flower, who knows what he’ll do. _

_ You’re mad. _

_ Stop trying to change the subject,  _ you snap.  _ And I’m not mad but I’m getting there. _

You let Frisk take back control and go to sulk in the back of your shared headspace. Irritation radiates off you in waves, though you’re not entirely sure what exactly you’re angry about. You spend a few moments trying to figure out why Frisk suddenly decided to go visit Asriel. Maybe it was something related to today.

Frisk is quiet, for a long time. You can feel them contemplating. They make one weary look over where the mountains are, but ultimately decide against it and turn down the street to Toriel’s house. 

_ Do you think he’s afraid of us? _ they ask eventually, breaking the silence. Then, after a beat,  _ Of me. _

Annoyed, you bite back,  _ I thought it didn’t bother you when people were afraid of you. _

Unperturbed by your tone, they go on,  _ He’s the only monster who knows of a reason to be afraid of me. _

You think about that statement for a moment. _ Asriel was afraid of you. _

_ Asriel was afraid of me because he thought I was  _ **_you_ ** _ , _ Frisk finally snaps, and ouch, that one stings a bit. You instantly feel Frisk’s regret as soon as they say it, but they don’t apologize.  _ And it’s not like he’s wrong. _

_ Whatever. He’s not even a monster anyway. _ You scowl with their mouth.  _ Just a soulless piece of shit.  _ Just like me, you don’t say.

_ You curse more when you’re upset, _ Frisk notes.

_ I am one step away from making you say “fuck” in front of Toriel. _

Frisk snorts again. It isn’t like before, when you could manipulate them with your agony and rage, and when they could manipulate you back through sheer willpower. Nowadays your anger usually gives way to fondness in time, and that sometimes irritates you more than anything. 

_ I still think we should go see him,  _ Frisk then says softly,  _ at some point. _

You can already feel yourself being placated. Fuck.  _ Why?  _ you still ask, just to be annoying.

_ It must be lonely down there, _ Frisk replies, and perks up once they spot Toriel’s house. They’re the type of menace to avoid driveways and sidewalks and just walk up directly to the front door through the grass.

_ That’s his problem, _ you say, staying out of the way while Frisk toes their shoes off at the entrance and throws their coat off to the side somewhere.  _ Serves him right. _

_ You don’t mean that. _

You really don’t. The callout has your face flushing in embarrassment. It’s a flower — a stupid, bloodsucking, life-stealing, soulless vessel that stole your brother’s dust — but that’s the thing: in some strange way, he’s still your brother. Your brother who doesn’t even know you’re still around, and have been the whole time.

(His final words as Asriel still ring in your head:  _ The truth is… Chara wasn’t really the greatest person. While, Frisk, you’re the type of friend I wish I always had. _ )

_ We’ve already tried to get him to come to the surface, _ you say shakily, trying to redirect your thoughts.

_ We don’t have to convince him _ , Frisk says.  _ Just visit. It wouldn’t hurt. _

_ He could try to kill us. _

_ Well,  _ **_that_ ** _ wouldn’t be anything new. _

Despite the heaviness washing down upon the two of you, you both start laughing. It starts small, like one of Frisk’s snorts, and then soon makes way to giggles. The two of you laugh and laugh, and keep laughing, almost like crying, until Frisk rounds the corner to walk into the kitchen and immediately halts in place.

“hey, kid.”

You both go silent. You can feel Frisk’s urge to smooth their bangs over their eyes, but any movements now would look suspicious.

sans sits there at the table, holding a cup of tea in his hand, but he hasn’t taken a single sip from it. His perpetual grin is in place, unyielding, but there’s something behind it that makes your blood run cold.

“so,” he breaks in, “what’s so funny?”

**Author's Note:**

> i really like the idea that frisk can be just as scary as chara. interesting stuff.
> 
> anyway, the second chapter will come.... eventually. i have no guaranteed date. it also may potentially change to three chapters depending on how much i end up writing. thank you all for being patient with me <3


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